


ways to say you died

by leitmotifs (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/leitmotifs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry gets back with his ex, and...well, you'll see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ways to say you died

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSBFehvLJDc)
> 
> also can you believe that crotch grab

i.

Harry realizes his mistake after he walks out of his bedroom and sees Louis's door ajar, a sure sign that the other boy is home. Then he catches a whiff of cooking pancakes and a small sense of dread starts pooling in his stomach, because he knows that Louis would burn their flat down before the pancake mix even made it on the griddle.

He shuffles down the hall, into the kitchen. Sure enough, there's Niall, wearing one of his old Eagles shirts, flipping a pancake over while Louis sits at the counter behind him, a pensive expression settled on his face.

"Thought you weren't supposed to be back until later," Harry manages, drawing both of their attention to him. Louis _isn't_ supposed to be back until at least two in the afternoon.

"They let me go early." Louis smiles at him, sweet and genial and unnerving. "Anyway, Niall here was just telling me all about that — what did you call it? — F3 tornado."

"Yeah, Harry," Niall says, turning a little ways from the stove, "I can't believe I _died_ in that tornado. Can you?"

Harry laughs nervously. This...is not according to plan.

 

 

 

("Yeah, it was terrible," Harry said, fresh out of high school and a little bit drunk and thinking of the blond boy that used to live next door. Apparently, alcohol warranted many flashbacks about the-one-that-got-away. "I returned everything I ever bought him."

Louis, also a little bit drunk and touched by the poignant story of how a rare tornado in the city sucked up his boyfriend and ended a year-long relationship. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he was more susceptible to tragic love stories lately, but something about it tugged at his heartstrings. He looked at his newfound flatmate with a look of sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that, mate."

Harry dragged his sleeve across his eyes. When did the tears get there again? Oh, right, since his boyfriend was viciously devoured by nature. "It's fine," he said in a thick voice. "It's been a while, so I'm getting over 'im, y'know?"

Louis slung an arm around him, simultaneously pushing another beer into his hand. "It'll be okay," he said soothingly.

With a sniffle, Harry accepted it. They toasted to his ex-boyfriend.)

 

 

 

ii.

They're walking down the street together, heading towards the frozen yogurt shop that Niall got a part-time job at. It's only the beginning of August but the air is cool, and Niall's wearing the jacket that Harry insisted on letting him borrow.

Harry finds it a little easier to breathe, now that everything's been squared away with Louis and he doesn't have to wake up to ruthless teasing anymore. Plus, he's got the nice weight of Niall's hand in his, so everything's pretty good.

Then they turn at _that_ particular street, and Harry doesn't notice because he's distracted by the way Niall's hair catches the sunlight in just the right way, doesn't notice until a voice calls, "Hey, Harry."

He turns, Niall turning with him, and lo and behold, there's Zayn at his usual spot, surrounded by blank canvases and various drawing mediums. He waves, fingers charcoal-smeared, and Harry watches as his gaze lands on his and Niall's linked hands.

"And hello to you too," Zayn adds, lifting an eyebrow.

Niall briefly lets go of his hand to reach out and shake Zayn's. "I'm Niall," he greets, the smile evident in his voice.

"And that's Zayn," Harry says quickly. "Niall, Zayn. Zayn, Niall. Hey, babe, aren't you going to be late for your shift? We—"

Unfortunately, the realization dawns in Zayn's eyes before he can finish. "Niall?" he repeats, and Harry's voice fades out with a small, strangled noise. His dark eyes flicker to Harry.

 _Please don't say anything,_ Harry begs silently.

Zayn's smirk replies, _Of course I'm going to say something._

"How was that bull fight?" he asks casually.

"Uh." Niall glances at Harry for a second, then back to Zayn with a small chuckle. "What?"

Zayn claps his hands free of charcoal grit, that smirk never once wavering. "The one you got fatally injured in."

"It was _great_ ," Harry says loudly, and takes Niall's arm. "Bye, Zayn."

"I was fatally injured in a bull fight?" Niall asks cluelessly as he's led away.

Harry, cheeks burning red, tugs him around the corner as Zayn calls after them, "Rest in peace!"

 

 

 

("Wow," Harry mumbled, taking in the product of an hour's worth of Zayn's hand methodically sketching across the smooth canvas. "It looks just like him."

"That's a surprise," Zayn hummed, though he sounded slightly bashful. "You barely gave me anything to work."

Harry crossed his arms. "What do you mean? I gave you plenty."

"You described his eyes as the eighth wonder of the world," Zayn told him. "You could've just said blue or green."

Rolling his eyes, Harry pops a piece of gum into his mouth before offering one to Zayn. The streets are lagging today, so for once, Zayn had humored him and asked if he had any requests.

The result was a half-colored sketch of blond hair, blue eyes, smooth cheeks and curved lips.

"No offense," Zayn said, "but you don't talk about him like he's an ex. How many years did you say it's been?"

"Two." Harry leaned back against the brick wall with a sigh. "Can I tell you something?"

"If that something is that you're still in love with him, save your breath."

"I'm not!"

It was kind of the truth. He didn't go a day without thinking of him — _Niall would've ordered this,_ or _this would've looked great on Niall,_ or _Niall would've laughed at this_ — and he still kept all their old texts, which he sometimes looked through. 

That didn't mean he was still in love, did it? He just missed him, was all, and yeah, he did just ask his friend to draw a portrait of him, but that was...beside the point.

"Of course you aren't." Zayn didn't bother to pretend to sound convinced. "You ever try talking to him?"

"He got in that bullfighting accident, remember?" Harry said distractedly.

 _No, last time you said he was recruited to NASA and got sent to space_ , Zayn thought. But he said, "Oh, right. Sorry for your loss."

Then he carefully handed the canvas to the lovesick idiot next to him.)

 

 

 

iii.

Liam is the one who lives in the flat next to his and Louis, and in the years they've spent coexisting in the same complex, Harry has never had a problem with him. In fact, Liam sometimes comes over with food and Louis turns on FIFA and they all spend hours shouting at the TV together, and sometimes Harry has to leave the room because they start making out. Anyway. He's considered Liam a good friend, up until that evening of the eleventh of September.

"Harry, did Louis tell you where..."

Niall pushes him away from the kiss gently, their noses brushing as he turns to look at the interloper.

"Ah," Liam says, the rest of his sentence dying out. Such is the side effect of walking in on a couple kissing each other heatedly in the hallway.

"What," Harry says through gritted teeth, chanting a silent mantra of _Liam Is Friend, Liam is good, do not shout at_ _Liam_.

But he realizes that he's shown Liam a picture of Niall and Liam probably has the best memory in the neighborhood. "Lou's inside," he calls, trying discreetly to raise his arm and block Niall's face from view, but Liam's already caught a good glimpse.

"Hey!"

Then Liam _starts jogging towards them_ and all the alarms go off in Harry's head.

"Again?" he hears Niall says, amused.

Meanwhile, Liam looks like he's just witnessed the greatest miracle of his life. "Niall, is it?" he asks, eyes trained on the shorter blond, and Harry bemoans, _Oh, God, he even remembers his name, so he probably remembers—_

"Harry never told me you survived—" Liam stops abruptly, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Sorry, I guess I'm not allowed to talk about this...?"

"No," Harry cuts in, his own voice strained, "you're not." He looks meaningfully at Liam, then his apartment door, trying to convey that he needs to stop.

"Right, right, I wasn't thinking."

He turns and starts walking, and Harry exhales a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He's barely aware of Niall's shoulders shaking as he tries to bite back laughter. Harry would be laughing with him if he hadn't just avoided a third reason to crawl under a rock and stay there for the rest of his life.

Liam stops with a hand hovering above the doorknob. He looks back at Niall, as if he's just met James Bond. "Good luck on your missions!" he whisper-shouts, then his eyes widen comically, and he opens the door and darts inside.

Niall seemingly loses his inner battle to contain his mirth, because he's outright laughing into Harry's chest. Grudgingly, Harry puts his arms around him.

"This is golden," he hears Niall say through his giggles. The other boy looks up at him, grinning broadly. " _You're_ golden."

"Thanks," Harry grumbles. Niall simply starts laughing again.

 

 

 

("How'd you even end up dating a spy?"

Louis was late that day, so Liam had come over and it had been him and Harry for about an hour and a half.

He had seen the old picture of Niall and Harry, taken when they were third years in high school, and asked about it.

"He had to move away before we graduated," Harry had explained, which was about the closest he got to the truth before it took a sharp left turn towards _bullshit_. Denial was a river in Egypt and in his veins, apparently. "We decided the relationship wouldn't work."

Then Liam had asked, "Why not?" and Harry didn't feel like saying _because we both thought we weren't really in love_ so he'd said, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

And Liam hadn't even noticed the quote, just turned on him with a curious expression. That was how the spy story unfolded. Niall moved because he was recruited into an intelligence agency, and he went on a mission to Amsterdam and Harry hadn't heard from him since.

"I don't know," he answered. In times like these, he wondered why he never opted for an acting career. "I miss him though." But that— that was a truth.

Liam paused. "I'm sorry," he said softly, sympathetically, like everyone always did.

Harry flipped the picture face-down. "It wasn't your fault," he said, like he always did.)

 

 

 

iv.

The restaurant is nothing fancy, but Niall once pointed out that they never went on Real, Official Dates, so when Harry realized they both had the day off, he took him here.

They're sitting in one of the more private booths in the back. Under the table, Niall nudges his foot. "You know," he begins quietly, "I missed you."

No matter how many times Harry has said it himself, the fact that _Niall_ is saying it inundates him with a sense of affection. Under the table, he nudges his foot. "So it's mutual," he returns, smiling easily.

Niall picks up the menu, and for a second, Harry contemplates pushing it away because it's obscuring his boyfriend's brilliant smile. But he doesn't. _I wonder why we ever broke up,_ he wants to say, but they've been back together for about five months now and Niall says, in all his own little ways, that he wonders the same thing too.

But what happened doesn't matter compared to what _is_ happening, Harry tells himself. He makes no mention of it.

Looking down at their table, he notices a small splotch of ketchup to the side and an unforgivable lack of napkins. "Hold on," he tells Niall, and gets up, ready to go to the counter and request some.

He stops when he realizes that their waiter is already there...and that he apparently knows Niall.

"Niall!" The waiter — _Josh,_ his name tag reads, and Harry makes sure to ask about this Josh later — beams, as if he might just hug Niall hello. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

"Josh?" Niall sounds just as surprised as he is. "I didn't know you worked here..."

"Just moved a month ago. You look great. Well, better than the last time I saw you."

Niall laughs weakly.

"Anyway, what—" Josh seems to notice Harry for the first time. He smiles at him too, but it only lasts for two seconds; his eyes narrow and his shoulders go tense. "You."

Harry shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah, s'cuse me, I have to—"

"Leave him at the altar again?" Josh finishes for him, his tone scathing.

Harry looks over at Niall uncertainly, but Niall is busy hiding behind his menu. "Uh," Harry says, " _sure,"_ and slips off awkwardly to get those napkins.

If looks could kill, he would probably be dead ten times over.

 

 

 

v.

The gravity of it doesn't really _settle_ until later, when they're back at the flat, Niall curled up against him as Jack and Rose proclaim their love for each other on TV.

"You told him I ran out on you during our wedding?" Harry says out of nowhere.

"Well," Niall huffs, remembering that he apparently died in a tornado, bull fight, _and_ on a top secret mission. He buries his face into Harry's side. "Serves you right."


End file.
